To Fly
by Raine Ito
Summary: CHAPTER TWO NOW UP! Angelina Johnson is struggling with her meaningless life, until a convenient snow-storm re-unites her with wise-cracking lovable jokester Fred Weasley, who sweeps her off on a whirlwind romance. But things can't be perfect forever...
1. Winter Wonderland

Title: To Fly  
Author Name: Rebecca DeCiel  
Author Email: tigerdawn@cox.rr.com  
Category: Romance, Angst, Humor  
Keywords: Fred, Angelina, Post-Hogwarts  
Spoilers: All four books, but especially GoF  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Angelina Johnson is struggling with her meaningless life, until a convenient snow-storm re-unites her with wise-cracking lovable jokester Fred Weasley, who sweeps her off on a whirlwind romance. But things aren't the way they used to be, and when life throws a series of trials at Angelina, will Fred be strong enough to comfort her through it all? Family heirlooms, sexy redheaded boys, and romance abound in this bittersweet story about everyone's favorite Yule ball couple.  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast books, and Warner Brothers. No money is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. That being said, read on!  
  
Do you remember when we were hungry?  
Do you remember when we were cold?  
Do you remember when we were happy?  
Do you remember? Do you remember?  
-Everclear, "Otis Redding"  
  
Chapter One-Winter Wonderland  
  
Cold, colder, coldest, that's how the days seemed to be going, now that winter had finally set in. Angelina loved winter, and the way the snow fell on the trees, making their bows glisten and glimmer in the bright sunlight. She loved how the ground looked like a huge iced cake, covered with thick white frosting, and how the sky was clear and sharp with frigid air on some days, and frosty with snowy haze on others.   
  
But right now, twenty-year-old Angelina Johnson was not thinking about the beauty of the season, or the quickly approaching holidays. She was stuck in the snow, halfway to nowhere, one boot clamped hard in a drift that had fallen in an avalanche too soon for her to avoid it. "Damn," she muttered, tugging on her foot, and letting her backpack slip off her shoulders to sink into the ground. Pulling her foot free, she sighed, grunted with exhaustion, and slumped to a seat in the snow, removing a glove and wiping a cold hand across her face.  
  
"Stupid," Angelina whispered to herself, leaning against a nearby tree. "Should've known she wouldn't be living there, after all these years." And it was true. Alicia Spinnet's house was no where to be seen, though the map now clutched in Angelina's hands kept beeping and trying to mark a large X on her location. She rolled up the violently protesting map, stuck it in her coat pocket, and hauled herself to her feet, pulling her bag back on to survey the landscape. Not much here, she thought. I'd better head back.  
  
"But you'd think," she said to no one, "That when you receive an invitation, the sender would be courteous enough to include directions, or something." Not that she really blamed, Alicia, Angelina told herself. She'd always been a bit absentminded. It had been such a long time since they'd seen each other...Angelina remembered how close they'd all been at school. But this wasn't the time. Hopping back into her car, Angelina slammed the door, hit the gas, and head of in the direction that she had come.  
  
Or at least, that's where she hoped she was heading. The disgruntled map, still beeping and convulsing, seemed to think otherwise.  
  
************  
  
Some time later, perhaps an hour, Angelina's car gave a jolt, a shudder, and stopped dead. No matter how hard she tried, it wouldn't start up again. "Bloody heck," she exclaimed, having run out of creative curses to use a long time ago. She leaned back in the seat and drummed her fingers on the dashboard. "What to do, what to do..." She'd taken up a habit of talking to herself lately, she realized. Not as if there was anyone else to talk to out here. Climbing out of the car, Angelina kicked the door shut angrily, and surveyed her surroundings.  
  
She'd strayed off the road a long time ago, without really realizing it. Now her car was sitting in a large open field, covered with snow, with nothing but a few trees barring an open view on each side. Pulling her wand out of her pocket, Angelina waved it in the air, murmuring the necessary words, but found that she couldn't apparate. I must still be in muggle country, she thought. There's a guard against magic around here.   
  
Figuring she'd better get going, and try to find somewhere from which she could find a mode of transportation, Angelina shook the snow off of her hair, and waded forth, hoping fervently that no one would notice the car, stuck where it was, in the middle of a clearing all alone.  
  
**************  
  
Shivering and rubbing her hands together, Angelina trudged forwards and onwards, the map long silent in her backpack, apparently having given up hope entirely. felt like she was getting colder by the minute, and her gloves were soaking wet with melted snow and ice, leaving her hands rigid and freezing within them. I wish I'd thought to wear a hat, or hood or something, she thought. But then, I didn't know I'd be out this long.   
  
The sun, no longer glistening to glance prettily off of the snow, seemed meek and colorless, giving no warmth to her and her surroundings. After a while, Angelina could no longer see it at all, and looked up to realize that heavy white flakes were pouring down, obscuring her vision. She was among trees now, away from the open field, but no closer, it seemed to her destination. Every once and a while she would try apparating, but the charm set to ward off magic in muggle territory held fast. She was stranded.  
  
So cold, she thought, so very cold...where's all the warmth gone? It seemed like only a few moments ago that she'd been fine...but now one of her arms didn't seem to be functioning correctly, too stiff and frigid to be of much use to her. She couldn't feel her nose or her ears anymore...and everything was becoming fuzzier, softer...as if the snow falling from the sky had blended with the ground, creating one huge blanket of white that her eyes could not penetrate.  
  
Yet she kept walking onward, feeling, in the back of her mind, that if she trudged far enough, she'd have to be out of muggle country soon, and would be able to apparate, even if she was miles from home. But every step Angelina took seemed heavier than the last, and every snowflake that touched her nose felt colder. After a while, she didn't care where she was, or how she'd gotten there. Her whole mind was filled with a sense of weighted fatigue, that could only be lifted by sleep, even right here, in the soft snow...sleep...  
  
But some bit of sense lingered in her mind. I can't sleep, can't sit down, she kept telling herself, over and over, while the inevitable weariness pressed upon her. I must keep going...I must get home...get warm...get out of the cold. But when she decided to try again to apparate, Angelina found that she couldn't lift her wand, that her hands had gone numb and useless. Her head swam, and, for just a moment, even as she leaned against a tree trunk, closing her eyes to finally relax against her will, she thought she heard a voice, quiet, as if far away.  
  
"Angelina!"  
  
Am I imagining things, she wondered? I'm delirious...I have to get out of the air...  
  
"ANGELINA!" It was louder now, and unmistakable. Someone was calling out for her, louder and louder as they drew closer. She opened her mouth to answer, but closed it, finding it too much of a burden to speak. She would just drift off for a few minutes, it wouldn't harm her...just a few moments of peace...stop calling for me, stop it...I want to sleep...  
  
And then something lurched into view, casting a tall shadow across the white ground. It was out of focus, she couldn't see it clearly, but it stretched out a long arm to her, and called to her again. "Angelina, can you hear me?" Yes, she tried to say, but no, no, she couldn't anymore...she couldn't even hear the birdcalls or the sound of the wind, she just wanted to rest...  
  
"Angie, come on, come with me...can you see me? This way, this way..." and a strong arm was supporting her now, pulling her away from the tree, making each foot step painstakingly forward. She leaned into the arm, breathing in and out, her eyes still closed. "Come on, it's not too far, follow me, walk with me, we're almost there!" Something was wrapped around her shoulders, and Angelina felt a little bit of warmth trickle into her, causing her to shudder. This apparently alarmed the other person, who started walking faster, urging her onwards.  
  
Angelina never knew how far she walked, or how long it took, because after a while everything became a haze, and it took all her strength to put one foot in front of the other, again and again. There was always that voice in her ear, encouraging her, whispering to her, telling her they were almost there, that it was all right, not to sleep, not to rest. It was torture, and so many times she wanted to fall down right there in the soft snow. But she had to keep going.  
  
And finally, when she thought it was over, and that she could walk no more, a door opened, and light poured into her world. Light, warmth, the comfort of a chair that she was eased into by gentle hands, heavy blankets being placed over her, and a few whispered words accompanied her into her dreams, where everything was suddenly all right. And sleep itself was the most beautiful thing she'd ever imagined.  
  
**************  
  
The first thing Angelina saw when she woke up was a roaring fire in the fireplace across from her. The room was dimly lit, and all the cold had passed from her toes and fingers entirely. She found she could move all of her limbs again, but was loathe to do so, as she was more comfortable right now than she ever recalled having been in her life. But where was she?  
  
Slowly sitting up, Angelina threw off the blanket that she was wrapped in, and looked around the room. It was small, with a large armchair near the fireplace. The only other real piece of furniture around was the couch she'd been sleeping on. On all the walls were picture frames, but none of them had photographs in them, except one. The boy in this picture couldn't have been more than fifteen, red haired, freckled, with a huge grin on his face. And standing next to him was a girl...it was-  
  
A hand on her shoulder made Angelina whirl around, startled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," her assailant said, grinning, and pushing a lock of flaming hair out of his eyes. "I see you're feeling better, good. I was afraid we'd lost you for a little while there. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to go out without your hat? Mine did. Again. And again."  
  
"Fred...Fred Weasley!" There was no mistaking him, even his smile reminded her of the boy in the portrait, the boy she'd known at Hogwarts, the boy who'd taken her to the sixth year Yule Ball.   
  
"Yup," said Fred, striding around her to turn up the lights. "Why so surprised?" He slumped onto the sofa, lay one arm carelessly across the back of it, and looked up at Angelina. "I mean, I suppose it's been a long time since Hogwarts, but you don't look happy to see me at all. In fact, you look a little scared. I don't bite, really. Well, usually, anyway. There was that time in my third year, when Flint tried to steal George's hamburger, but that's a different story all together. Are you quite all right?"  
  
Angelina was staring at him with a sort of dumb look on her face, not quite sure what to say. Then, finally, she bit her lip, and asked, "How do you find me? Where was I?" George chuckled.  
  
"You were in my backyard, believe it or not. I mean, it's 5:00 in the afternoon, I go outside to get a little fresh air before it gets too dark, and what do I see but Angelina Johnson, stumbling around and walking into fenceposts. At first I thought you were a robber, but it was impossible to mistake your beautiful face, once you got closer." He winked. "You looked pretty done-in, so I figured you'd better get inside."  
  
"And here I am," she finished, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Thanks, Fred. You've an uncanny knack for showing up exactly when you're needed." Fred stood up, and clapped a hand to Angelina's shoulder briefly, looking down at her with his usual smile.   
  
"My pleasure, but don't do it again. Come on, are you hungry? You must be, you haven't eaten for twenty-four hours. Here, I'm sure I can dredge up something fit for you to eat...well, I hope I can." He walked into the kitchen, rummaging around in the cupboard for a few minutes. "Eh, looks like I'm wrong. Unless you want to eat these rather old moldy bread slices?" He pulled out a plastic bag, containing a few slices of rye bread that were looking a bit green. "No? I didn't think so." Fred shoved them back in, and closed the cupboard door with a resigned slam.  
  
"Well, that only leaves one option, I suppose. Are you up for eating out? You're looking much better, but if you'd prefer to stay home, I could bring you back something." Angelina shook her head.   
  
"I'd love to go out, if it's all right with you," she said mildly. "Unless, of course, we're walking. I think I've done quite enough of walking in the snow for now, thank you." Fred chortled, and disappeared around the corner into a closet. When he emerged, he was carrying her coat, which he gave her, before grabbing his own of the back of a kitchen chair.   
  
"Off we go, then! We'll be driving, as I know this wonderful little muggle restaurant not far from here. Pretty cheap, also, sorry if I'm not a lavish host." But Angelina didn't mind at all. Today promised to be much more enjoyable than the one before it. After all, time spent with Fred Weasley was never boring.   
  
And she was starving.  
  
**************  
  
"So," asked Angelina, seated at a table in Graziella's Diner, biting off a chunk of her hamburger as she spoke, "What have you been up to lately? I haven't seen you since graduation. It doesn't seem like you to live all alone..."  
  
"Mmmph mmrgle mumph murk!" Said Fred, through a large bit of hotdog that he was chewing.   
  
"What?" Asked Angelina. "I didn't get a word of that."  
  
"I said," Fred repeated, swallowing the food, "Don't talk with your mouth full. Anyway, I don't really live alone. I mean, I do, but George lives just down the street. We figured it wasn't good to live together, we'd probably end up in prison eventually, egging each other on and all." He grinned. "But now we've finally got our own joke shop, you know? Always wanted one, and we've got it, now. We can finally try out all of those new projects we've been working on."  
  
Angelina rolled her eyes. "I never thought you'd actually get it, but I shouldn't be surprised. It's what you've always wanted, and I couldn't see you doing anything else. Can we go see George, later? I've missed both of you. Actually, I was on the way to Alicia Spinnet's dinner party when I got lost. I'm running into all kinds of old friends lately."  
  
"So that's what you were doing out there," Fred said, nodding. "I was going to ask. And of course we'll go see George, I'm sure he'll be quite thrilled to see you. How is Alicia, anyway?"  
  
Angelina finished the last bite of her hamburger, and crumpled up the paper wrapping, tossing it into the trash from her seat. "I don't know. I never got there. She probably didn't even notice I wasn't there, though, you know how she is."  
  
"Too true." Fred stood up, and made for the door. "Well, are you coming? I thought you wanted to go see George!" Angelina followed him.  
  
"What, right now?" She asked, a bit surprised.  
  
"Sure, he'll be at the shop settling a few things. Of course I should be there too, but I figured I had an excuse." He grinned again.  
  
"I didn't mean to keep you from your work," Angelina stammered. "I could go, now, if you've got more important things to do. Thanks for lunch, it was lovely." Fred grabbed her by the arm before she could slip by him.   
  
"You're not keeping me from anything important, I promise. George is just fine at running things by himself. You've got to drive home with me, anyhow, because you can't exactly walk. Come back with me for a while, and if you're still set on going, I'll take you back to your house afterwards. I haven't seen you in three years, I'm not letting you go that easily."  
  
So Angelina had nothing to do but get back in the car and drive off into the morning with Fred Weasley, past the houses of sleepy people on their Saturday morning schedules, most ready for a good long weekend. I've got nothing to look forward to, after this, Angelina realized. I've got no where to go but back to where I was, and where does that lead? Nowhere. I don't have anyone to welcome me when I get home. I'm unemployed, I don't even have anything to occupy my time. My weekends are the same as my weekdays, pointless, meaningless, droning days full of staring at the clock on the wall, wishing it was over. What am I doing?  
  
Fred must have noticed her silence, because he squeezed her shoulder lightly, and said, "You all right, Angie?" Angelina started. No one had called her Angie since her school days, when that had been her nickname. But Fred had never called her that, actually...he'd called her...but that didn't matter now. That was long ago, so very long ago.  
  
"I'm fine," she said reassuringly. "Just fine." 


	2. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes

The sign read, "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," and Angelina wasn't surprised. She remembered the name, as the twins had talked about it often, always plotting and planning to sell their little pranks without their mother noticing. She'd rolled her eyes and told them it would never happen. But Fred had always been persistent. "I'll show you, someday," he'd said. "It'll be in big, flashing red letters across the top of some big store...and we'll be rich, and famous...and then I'll marry you, and we'll live in a mansion, and all."  
  
They'd only been in second year, but Fred and George had always had big dreams. Big dreams, big imaginations, and big mouths. Angelina chuckled, thinking about all the times they'd gotten each other in and out of trouble, away from Filch, stealing things from under the teacher's noses. Life had been so boring until they came along...so purposeless.  
  
"Well, we're here." Fred stepped out of the car, and offered his hand, with a mock bow, to Angelina, who shook her head, grinned, and accepted it, letting him lead her towards the shop. There were no flashing red letters, and it was a modest size, but Angelina felt that she already liked it. It was a realized dream, a fantasy that had come true, and she wanted to believe in that. Not that she'd ever really doubted Fred and George getting exactly what they wanted...that was just the way they'd always been.  
  
Fred opened the door, and yelled in. "Oi, George! I've brought a bit of a surprise. Been holding down the fort, have you?" He pulled Angelina inside.  
  
George was standing with his back to them, rummaging through a drawer of something. "What's kept you?" He called over his shoulder to Fred. "Crazy old witch wandered in here earlier, picked up a fake wand, and got so shocked that she fainted. We're probably going to get sued, you know?" He closed the drawer with a bang.  
  
"Yeah, well, it won't be the first time. Anyway, I've got someone to see you, says you owe her money." He nudged Angelina forward. George whirled around.  
  
"What? Why'd you let her in here if I owe...money." He stopped, and a slow grin spread across his face, stretching to the ears. "Angelina Johnson! Absolutely spiffing to see you! Come in, come in, don't let fat old Fred bar the door with his bulk." He walked over, and gave Angelina a quick hug, before ushering them both in and closing the door behind them. "What brings you this way, after all this time? Fred didn't abduct you, I hope." George winked over Angelina's head at Fred.  
  
Angelina smiled. "Actually, he rescued me." George raised his eyebrows. "I got stuck out in a snowstorm, and good old Fred showed up," Angelina explained. "I wandered into his backyard. If it wasn't for him, I'd be a large icicle right now."  
  
George punched Fred playfully in the shoulder. "Well now, you're good for something, I see. We'll have to make a note of that." He chuckled, and moved off behind the counter. "You haven't seen some of our latest products, Angie," he said, beckoning her forward. She and Fred joined him, as he lifted out a box from a cabinet beneath the counter, brushing some dust off of it. Fred sneezed. "Oops, sorry," George said, carefully prying open the lid, and peering inside. "Aha! Still in good condition, I see. I believe you'll remember these..."  
  
Angelina looked in, and exclaimed "canary creams! But those are dangerous! I thought the ministry outlawed them, said you weren't allowed to sell them anymore! Remember poor Crumpet? She's probably still flying around out there, somewhere..." The three of them shared a smile, remembering Angelina's old neighbor's cat, and the canary cream they'd left lying around. It hadn't been too much of a loss, really...even the old lady who'd owned her had to admit it eventually.   
  
"Yes, poor Crumpet," George agreed, shaking his head in mock sadness. "But really, Angie, we don't sell them, anymore...right Fred?" The twins looked at each other knowingly. "We just...take them out, now and then, for a bit of fun." Angelina felt doubtful about George's definition of 'a bit of fun,' but grinned anyway.   
  
"I thought you were going to show me your new items," she said, running her hands over a crumpled looking black hat in the corner of the shop. Fred ran over and pulled her away from it.   
  
"Don't touch that," he admonished, picking up a fake wand off the shelf, which promptly turned into a rubber chicken. He prodded at the hat with the chicken, careful to keep a few feet away. As they watched, the hat sprang to life, jumping on to the chicken's head, and clamping down hard, shaping itself to the fit of the tiny fake bird. Fred dropped the chicken, and the hat fell with it. "You see?" He asked, watching the hand in mild amusement. "The customer touches it, and it latches on to his or her head. It doesn't come off until you pay for it, either. We bring it out on slow days." Angelina shook her head.  
  
"That's downright malicious." Fred and George looked very affronted.  
  
"No it's not," proclaimed George, sweeping the hat and the chicken into a drawer with a quick flick of his wand. "It's creative marketing. You need that sort of thing in this business. The other customers see it, and they all want one. It's good fun, really. Most of the people who get caught by it end up laughing about it in the end."  
  
"Most of them," agreed Fred. He looked at the clock on the wall, which read, very plainly, "Time to leave." "Well," said Fred, "I suppose we'd best go home now, I've got to drive Angie back to wherever it is she hails from." He didn't seem too happy about it, and Angelina, surprising herself, wasn't either.   
  
"I'll join you," agreed George, waving his wand at the sign on the door, so that it read "closed." "I'm about done here, anyway." He locked up, and the three of them headed off towards the car.  
  
"You know," Fred remarked, when they were all piled in, "We don't really need to drive this back home." He and George exchanged another look, but Angelina was perplexed.  
  
"What?" She asked. "You can't leave it here, it'll be stolen, very likely." Fred shook his head, and George grinned, pushing a button on the dashboard. A roaring sound erupted all around them, and Fred suddenly reached around Angelina, and put his hands over her eyes. "You'll love this," he said, a laugh in his voice. "We've improved on dad's old design. Wouldn't mum be mad if she saw us now..."  
  
The rushing sound subsided, and Angelina suddenly got the dizzying feeling that she was leaving the ground, ascending into the clouds. She giggled, trying to break free of Fred's grasp, and Fred shook his head. "No peeking," he ordered, kicking her gently under the seat. Then, after a few moments, "All right, you can look now." He removed his hands from Angelina's eyes, and she gasped.  
  
She hadn't been imagining things; they were a long way off the ground. She could see, through the cloud layer, the tiny cars and shops below, the bustle and business of the wizard world. "Fred, George," she exclaimed. "You've enchanted a muggle object! I mean, you've done illegal things, but this is...well, really illegal!" Despite her mock serious tone, it was obvious that she was delighted. Evil hats, flying cars...it was almost like being back at Hogwarts again.  
  
George laughed. "Yeah, I know. We didn't want to damage our reputation, now did we? Hang on!" He hit a button on the dashboard, and the car sped forward, rocketing through the air. Angelina was thrown backward, grabbing on to Fred's hand for support, while laughing her head off, her hair flying in the wind. Fred grinned, squeezing her hand as they soared, away from the drone of everyday life, towards the sun.  
  
**************  
  
Angelina woke up on Fred's shoulder, as the car touched down on the snowy ground outside his home. She sat up sharply, her face burning uncontrollably. She hid this by pretending to wipe her face with one sleeve, while Fred opened the door, and bowed comically, offering his hand to her. She declined the hand, still afraid that he'd see the blush, and stepped out on her own.  
  
"That was lovely," she said, almost regretfully. "Really a pleasure. Can't say I've ever been in a flying car before...where's George?" She looked around, suddenly realizing that the other Weasley was nowhere to be found. Fred chuckled.   
  
"You fell asleep about halfway home. Exhausted from yesterday's travels, no doubt. He got off at his own house. He told me to tell you goodbye, and that it was spiffing to see you again." There was something about Fred's face...he wasn't unhappy really...Angelina didn't think so, anyway. He was...it was odd, really, she couldn't put her finger on it. I must be losing my touch, she thought. I used to be able to tell exactly what they were thinking, all the time...we were such good friends.  
  
"So, I suppose I'll be going, then," she said. It came out rather lamely. Angelina didn't know quite how to end this meeting. A cheerful goodbye, an exchange of new addresses, perhaps. Yes, that would work fine. "I hope to see you again, sometime. Ah...you were going to drive me home, weren't you? I don't want to impose on you, of course, but..." she trailed off. This was unneeded talk. I don't have to drive, she thought, I can apparate. This is ridiculous.  
  
"Oh, of course, yes," Fred said, coming out of his silence. "Here, go grab your things, and I'll get the car started up again...go on..." Angelina walked into the house, almost passing the room where she knew her hat and gloves lay. I love this house, she realized. I don't know why...that portrait there, of Fred and me...I didn't know he kept that...silly me...  
  
She watched the photograph of Fred wrap one arm around the shoulders of her photographic self, and sighed. I don't want to go, she thought. I don't want to go at all. But I can't stand here forever.  
  
Outside, she met Fred by the car. "Ah," he said, turning to see her, "Angelina, just the woman for the job. You see, I've misplaced my car keys, stupid git that I am. Have you seen them?"  
  
"You don't use car keys," Angelina murmured. "You use alohomora. You know that, Fred."  
  
Fred scratched his neck. "Ah, so I do, so I do. Foolish. Anyway, shall we go? Oh, but look at that, my wand's in the car. Nothing we can do about that, I'm afraid. I'll have to call George, he's good with lock picking and that sort of thing."  
  
Angelina sighed. "Fred." He turned to look at her. "I'm going home now."   
  
"Right, as soon as George-!"  
  
"No, Fred." She said it as gently as she could, biting her lip at the end. "I'm going home...now." She couldn't explain what was happening. I can see him again, she thought. You're stupid, Angelina, so stupid...why are you acting like this? It's not the end...and yet somehow, she knew that if she came back, it would be wrong. That was so long ago...it was useless to try and bring back the past.   
  
He sighed, nodded, put a smile on his face, and said, "Yeah, of course you are. Nice seeing you again, Angel." Angelina closed her eyes. Yes, she thought, that's what he used to call me. Angel...angel...angel...  
  
"Goodbye," was all she managed. She lifted her wand from her pocket, waved it in the air, murmured the words and was gone, leaving Fred standing alone, leaning against the car, with the an odd look on his face, that, if someone didn't know him well, might have been taken for regret.  
  
**************  
  
"Well, I'm home." Angelina stood in her kitchen, listening to her voice echoing in the empty room, off the walls and ceiling, and down the hall into the void. A mild-mannered mew announced the arrival of her kitten, Dragon, a soft white ball crouching at her feet, tiny pink nose upturned towards her. "Hi, honey..." Angelina knelt to stroke her fur. "Did you miss me?" The cat purred, rubbed against her hand, and then moved off, suddenly disinterested, to find her napping place again, the excitement of the arrival already a thing of the past.  
  
"Well then," Angelina said, smiling slightly, and surveying her surroundings. "Nothing's changed I see...who's been feeding you, anyway? You must be starving..." Her glance fell on an open bag of cat food in the corner, a large tear in the side, though nothing had apparently stayed long enough on the floor for it to make a mess. "Or perhaps not," she amended, walking over and removing it from easy access. "At least you've taken care of yourself."  
  
There were three letters on her windowsill, and a few rather messy owl droppings smeared across it as well. One letter was a bill; another was a postcard from great aunt Mildred, which she didn't bother to read, as great aunt Mildred hadn't been coherently sane in years. The final letter was sealed, with one of those charms that made you have to tickle it in just the right way to get it to open. It reminded Angelina of Fred, and that made her sigh. Guessing who it was from, she didn't open it yet, but left it lying on the table, wiping away the droppings, and washing her hands off in the kitchen sink.   
  
Next, a call to Alicia was in order. After a few apologies from both sides, Angelina hung up the phone, which she had to use to call people who were stupidly living in muggle country, wiped the contents of the kitchen table on to the floor, and made herself a sandwich, sitting at the head of the table, so that she could survey the kitchen. Not that there's anything to look at, she thought.  
  
Dragon pounced on to her lap, rubbing at her hands until she was offered a piece of toast, which she took, daintily, and went off to her corner. Angelina just sighed again, and watched the cat tearing up the bread into tiny pieces. It gave her some odd satisfaction to watch this, and that feeling disturbed her. I'm happy here, she thought. I've been happy here for three years...there's nothing wrong with my life. I know I'll get a job soon; it can't be too hard, and I have a lovely home, and Dragon, and friends when I need them. What's missing?  
  
**************  
  
The next morning, Angelina was fingering the unopened letter, when, quite suddenly, the fireplace across from her roared to life. She gasped, and had to take a few breaths before walking over to it. Who would be calling me at this time of day, she wondered? It's only six o'clock! Moving over to the fireplace, she peered in, then started again, looking into the face of none other than George Weasley. Long time no see. "Hullo," she said. "You're up awfully early."  
  
George's head chuckled. "Yeah, well, I've gotta get off to the store in a few. I wanted to say, it was really nice seeing you yesterday...we were wondering, if we close shop early today, would you want to come have a bit of dinner with us? They're doing fireworks tonight, some kind of big-headed wizard's birthday celebration, but we could watch it pretty easily from this nice little spot we have. We'd really love it if you came...ah, so would Fred. George's voice lowered slightly, and he winked at Angelina. For some reason, she blushed.  
  
"I'd..." she faltered, "Well, I'd love to, really...but I'm busy...I've a job interview tomorrow, and then I'd set out to finish my novel...I'm awfully sorry, George..." George's face fell, and Angelina's heart broke, just the way it always had at school, when either of the twins had been let down. She could never bear that look being her fault. "But...perhaps I can push some things out of the way." George grinned again.  
  
"Oh good," he said. "I was afraid you really weren't going to come. You've changed, Angie, quite a bit." Then he was solemn for a minute or two, followed by a pause in which Angelina was sure he would be shrugging, if she could see his shoulders. "Fred will be ecstatic. Wonderful, absolutely spiffing. All right, then, see you at seven, will I?"  
  
"I...suppose so, then," Angelina replied weakly. George winked, and popped out of sight, leaving Angelina alone to contemplate. I have changed, she thought. But I'd like to think I've changed for the better. Still...what harm could it do? I've got plenty of time. And I ought to get out more.   
  
The unopened letter lying on the table caught her eye again, but she did not go to pick it up. Instead, she stared at it for a long time, as if willing it, with her glance, to de-exist on the spot. Yet, it remained, taunting her, teasing her, begging her to tear it open. But Angelina had not lived alone so long with that little willpower. She let it go, for now.  
  
**************  
  
Welcome or not, the next day dawned. Angelina awoke, as she did every morning, at exactly six o'clock. She washed, brushed her teeth, and dressed, then remembered that she was going out later, and dressed again. She brushed her hair, applied a bit, and only a bit, of lipstick, and rushed downstairs. Dragon was fed, petted, and deposited on the couch, where he would likely sleep the entire day. Parchment and quills were dug out of the backs of dusty cabinets. A few letters were written and sent, a chapter of Angelina's novel was completed, and when the clock suddenly stared her in the face, there was nothing for it but to get up, brush her hair yet one more time, and vacate the premises. My, she thought, how time flies.  
  
Before departing, though, Angelina took a short walk down the street and around the corner, to pay a visit to a neglected party. "Hi, dad," she whispered, kneeling next to an unmarked patch of earth, littered with a few flower petals. "Sorry I've been gone so long." She chuckled quietly. "You always did like Fred and George, didn't you? Well, you were right, just to let you know. They didn't abandon me, after all. I'll tell you all about it, later. But I have to go now, I've got a date, or something. Daddy's little girl, all grown up, eh?" Her throat constricted suddenly, and she bit her lip. "I...I'll come back later with fresh flowers, Daddy...I love you. Mom...she misses you too, you know..."  
  
A hand suddenly clamping down on her shoulder sent Angelina spinning around, shaking the pent up tears from eyes in a quick spurt, which she quickly dashed away with an angry fist. It was Fred, early, as usual, looking very concerned. "Angel...what's wrong?" He squeezed her arm, and she swallowed hard, forcing a smile on to her face.   
  
"Nothing...just saying goodbye to Daddy before I go. Shall we?" Turning before he could say anything else, Angelina walked back up the way she'd come, listening to Fred's hurried footsteps as he ran to catch up. "Wait!" She stopped, letting him draw to a halt beside her.   
  
"Angelina...when...when did your father die? I...I remember him...he was a great guy, really funny...he always used to make George and me milkshakes when we came over. But, you never said anything, or at least, I don't remember..." He trailed off. Angelina took a deep breath.   
  
"No, you wouldn't...he died last year...an...an accident." Yes, it had been an accident, she supposed, although not to hear her mother tell it. Fred didn't say anything for a while, then sighed. Angelina started forward again, up towards the car where George was waiting, but Fred stopped her.  
  
"Wait, Angel...can I...can I say goodbye, too?" He looked torn, and she suddenly reached out and hugged him around the waist. Without saying anything more, the two of them went back to the gravesite, where Fred knelt where Angelina had been, bowing his head for a few moments in silent thoughts of his own. Then he pulled out his wand, waved it, and a large bunch of ridiculously bright yellow roses plopped onto the ground. Fred sighed. "Sorry...I'll try again, didn't mean to offend, or anything."   
  
Angelina shook her head. "No, leave the yellow ones...Dad would have liked those..." 


End file.
